To Durin's Son
by gryffinwing
Summary: Thorin and his new wife begin correspondence letters as a way to cope after a fight. They never meant for it to become a sweet tradition bonded by love and understanding from what all transpired after retaking Erebor. T rating for language.


**Oh boy, am I a sap...had to change this one. I own nothing by Tolkien, only Lóf, my OC for this story.  
**

Throbs and aches. Blood spatters and ragged breaths. Those among other things all of shared on that dreadful day. I placed my axe near a rock to support myself getting up. The grey wizard motioned for me and the hobbit near a tent where we saw healers and a few dwarves appear from the flap and then, it became so quiet. All sounds drowned out and a tunnel formed to the entrance of the tent and I had no mind that the brave little hobbit was clutching my hand as tightly as I had held my weapon that took out many a wretched goblin. This was a dream, it had to be.

I attempt to pull the flap for us to enter but the grey wizard, being ever so gracious, did it for us. The sight nearly knocked me to the ground, as he lay there in bloody bandages, scratches, the smear of dirt and sweat on his skin where they tended to his comforts, or what all he had left. I was a fool to believe that after all that we had shared on this quest, that we could be together and all would be well. As thoughts scurried through my mind, I thought of his two nephews and how valiantly they fought defending their uncle. Where were they? Were they tending to the wounded? Were they wounded? Why can I not know?

Before I can regain full awareness, I feel a hand on my arm and I look down to see that Bilbo was letting me know that it was my turn. I shake, and try not to stir. I try to savor this moment in that he is still alive and I can be with him if not for a few moments.

I begin to take a step but I feel as though I could buckle, as the mounting pressure of my beating heart only increased my struggle for keeping calm. I had to be calm, if not for me, then for him. I finally make it to the edge of the bed where he lifted one arm and I aided his reach by leaning over as I try not to aggravate any of his wounds. It was a miracle that he had the strength to hold me close as he used to but this dwarf was Thorin Oakenshield and the most complex and yet fascinated ones out of all my kin I had the pleasure of knowing. He then lifted my head and said to me,

"My beloved, my brave and faithful âzyungâl, I leave this world and you behind but only because, Mahal save me, I have not much life in me to live. Since these be my final moments, I need to know if you would forgive me", he coughs a bit and I shiver. He only did this one other time, when he took a longer drag from his pipe after Kili scared him by jumping out of a tree back in Rivendell. To see such a strong and resolute dwarf in such pain and longing to be free of it was enough to trod me with guilt for keeping him there.

"Of course I do", is all I can say and I lean in to kiss him. His chapped lips were still sweet with musk and cottonmouth from the battle, that was him. The taste of him was so individual from anything so desirous and urgent for longing. I found that out the night he took me away to a private piece of beach along the long lake and we made love in the warmth of his clothes and again in his old room of Erebor before the gold sickness sunk its claws into his mind. I had not regretted his touch or his fervent passion, but that I felt so ashamed for not trying harder to keep him away from the borders of greed. What compassion I could muster was trampled with his foul words toward me and Bilbo but I left knowing that I had failed in this. I left and joined the elves and men and although some elves threw scorned looks, I unleashed my anger and showed them that all of their wisdom and knowledge were nothing to judge the pain of losing my one and only love. I stomped away, furious and hot with confusion, and they fell silent.

"Why so soon my love? I do not deserve such as you. You stood by me even when I was wrong. A king should know better than to turn away wise warnings from his own true love", he said in a raspy voice.

"Silence Thorin! You do not have much left and now, it is my turn to speak. It matters not what you deserve now. What does matter is that I forbid you to leave this cruel world without knowing of how loved you really are. At the thought of you, there will be much cheering and singing in your name for you have reclaimed the mountain! I will share in our perils and praise your efforts in this quest. Had I the power, I would make you whole again but as fate would have it, I only know that you will go on in memory but a strong and dear one - ",

"You have more good in you than what eyes of the gods can see. If I had more time with you, it would be the golden world that all humble and kindly men wish to see. But gold or no, I leave you, my one and only arkenstone of my soul. Farewell now. I will always be with you", he whispers.

I yell out to him, "Men lananabukhs mênu".

From within him leapt the will to say it back to me, as he then whispered that he loved me before his final breath was taken.

I feel regret and relief for my love is where there is no pain and no shard of greed or hardship pangs at your very soul and he is waiting for when the world will be made over again, as the prophecy states, and from him and what he would want from me, I now have the strength to see the future with anticipation and no fear, but to go boldly to our destiny and meet it head on.

I do get to pass on my love for Fili and Kili as I kiss their foreheads and speak of their bravery and legacy as true warriors. "May you still call me 'aunt' even as you are in the halls of your fathers", I say as they are lain to rest. Mahal knows that in their youth, they were both kings in heart.

The others ask why I do not cry, and all I can say is "I hear a voice telling me to stay calm. I feel different too. Maybe I should see the healer after all."

After being observed and examined, the healer then has a surprised look on his face. I inquire as to why he appears so surprised and wondered if there was something wrong with me. That was when I knew. The news spread amongst the others faster than a blaze to a pile of dried leaves. Dain Ironfoot, knowing of my courage and being present for my departure from the castle, agreed to make my stay at the mountain as comfortable as possible.

The question is...how would our child grow up without the one that made me the warrior that I am?

That was when, I had finally woke up. "Lóf! Lóf! Can you hear me, my dear!" Was that Balin's voice? Where were the others? I begin to stir and feel a layer of something sticky on my shoulder. Ugh, I can't stand to have something on me unless I know what it is. The voice has sounded again, this time it is one all too familiar. "Azyungâl? Please awaken! Please open your eyes!" Once my eyes fluttered open to reveal their vibrant green hue, I met a blurred image of his smile, and sighed out with relief. "Thorin?", I asked in hope that what I was seeing was real, for if not I would just end my life for I could not take the torture.

"It is me, my dear. We have won this terrible battle - ", I cut him off when I feel the urge to grab him and hold him as tight as a skin on a potato. I shout aloud in pain from my shoulder and then place my hand over my belly, as if on instinct and completely forgetting the overprotective and hyper-attentive dwarves and elves in the healing tent. I look up to meet his eyes wide with shock upon realizing what I was doing. "Lay down now! Oín, check her over!"


End file.
